Merman 1

Dave checked the navigation on his phone—just a few more miles to go.

He exhaled slowly, trying to calm the tightness in his chest.

Beside him, Eddie hadn’t looked up once, eyes still locked on his own screen,

scrolling with the kind of focus he never reserved for Dave.

“Did you know,” Eddie suddenly began, his voice matter-of-fact,

“that a merman can only cry once in his entire existence?

A single tear. And if someone steals it, he loses everything—his youth, his beauty.

He rots away like us. Skin melting, flesh decaying, bones crumbling into sea dust.”

Dave smirked, eyes glued to the road. “Gross.” He flicked a glance at Eddie. “Says who?”

Eddie turned the phone toward him, exasperated.

“It says right here. Tears lost means eternity of sea dust for a merman.”

Dave barked out a laugh. “You’ll believe anything you read on the internet.

Mermen aren’t real, Eddie. They’re just myth—things locked away in dusty old novels,

or bad movies you regret watching because they suck you into the kind of

boredom you’ll never claw your way out of.”

Eddie sighed, unfazed. “Fine. But what about this?”

He scrolled again, his tone sharp with intrigue. “There’s an article clipping here.

It says that on the twelfth month, twelfth day, twelfth hour, twelve minutes and

twelve seconds of the year 1212, a merman screamed when a fisherman stole his tear.

His cry split the earth. Triggered a volcano. And look—”

he shoved the phone toward Dave, “—this map marks the exact spot. The same area we’re driving to.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. Let me see.”

But when Eddie pushed the screen toward him, Dave’s confidence faltered.

The coordinates matched. Exactly. He turned the wheel too sharply, almost sending Eddie’s phone flying.

“What the hell, Dave!” Eddie snapped.

“Sorry,” Dave muttered. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

The road narrowed, swallowed by a passage of mangroves whose tangled roots rose from the swamp

like blackened claws. Branches knitted overhead, blotting out the sky until only strips of dim gray light guided their way.

Finally, Dave braked hard. The tires crunched on gravel.

Before them loomed the mansion. It rose out of the forest like a carcass of stone and shadow—shuttered windows,

ivy clawing up the walls, the front gate sagging as though it hadn’t felt a welcome in decades.

This was his big contract. Two weeks, he promised himself.

Sell it fast, pocket the commission—at least two hundred grand—and maybe take Eddie to Madrid or Barcelona. Sunny Spain.

Sangria. Or what do you call the red wine mixed with lime soda?

Yes, Tinto de Verano. That sounds nice. Plus of course the endless salt air.

A reward. For agreeing to go with him for this trip.

Eddie broke his silence. “Two weeks, tops, right?

Because I need to get back to the office. Laura’s working on something.”

Dave sighed. “Does Laura has plans on returning the five hundred grand?”

Eddie shut his phone with a sharp snap.

“It’s tied up in her venture, obviously. It’s our working capital.

But she swears it’s on track. She’s pooling big investors.

We’re building portfolios across industries. It’s going to explode, Dave, I promise you.”

Dave smirked. “Promises made aren’t the same as promises kept.”

Eddie reached over, lacing his fingers with Dave’s.

“When have I ever promised you something that didn’t happen?”

Dave lifted a brow. “I can name plenty.”

“Like what?” Eddie shot back, already defensive.

Dave shook his head, unwilling to fight.

“Not now. I need to focus on selling this place.” He popped the trunk.

“Help me with the bags. I’ve got to call the estate lawyer, let him know we’re here.”

—————————————————————————————————————-

Meanwhile, in the deepest abyss of the ocean, something stirred.

Shells encrusted over centuries cracked apart and drifted down like shattered crowns.

Lids that had not opened for an age slowly peeled back,

releasing a faint shimmer of light into the black water.

A single breath rose from him, bubbles spiraling upward, breaking the silence of eternity.

He moved—slow, deliberate. His body, carved like marble by the weight of tides,

ascended through the darkness. Every ripple across his chiseled chest, every ridge of his abdomen, seemed alive,

flexing as though the sea itself beat through him. His beauty was otherworldly,

honed not by time but by its absence.

His eyes glimmered as they adjusted to the dim glow above. He knew.

The mortal he had waited for—centuries upon centuries—had finally stepped into his reach.

He’s here. NOW.

And soon, he would be down there.

With him.